Bless the Ground We Walk On, for it Led Me to You
by StuckWithWords
Summary: DRARRY: After a night of detention with Malfoy, Harry befriends the Slytherin, and the two start afresh. But is Malfoy just leading Harry on to lead him into Voldemort's clutches? It's more than that awful summary! 6th Year, but HBP/OOP mashup. Not smutty
1. Ch1

**A/N- I wrote this fic a few months ago, but recently I reread it and thought, "OH MY GOD. MUST. FIX. NOW.", so I throughly edited it and am now 100% happy with it!**  
><strong>This is my favorite fanfic I've written, so please tell me what you think :)<strong>

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Potter! Hey, Potter!"<p>

Harry closed his eyes and sighed as he took a bite. He didn't need to turn around to know who was calling him.

"Just ignore it." Hermione quickly whispered next to him. Although he tried, Harry couldn't finish his steak and potatoes with that annoying drawl in the background.

"Let's get outta here." Ron said, sensing Harry's irritablilty and glancing menacingly at the Slytherin table behind Harry and Hermione. "Alright." Harry agreed as he stood up and slipped his bag onto his shoulder. He had to finish his monthly predictions for Divination, anyway.

As the three friends walked out of the Great Hall and climbed the main staircase to the Gryffindor Tower, the taunting still lingered.

"What, Potter? Have to go run to your mummy? Oh wait...you can't... she's _DEAD_!"

A rush of infuriation swept through Harry like a wave. He whipped around to see none other than Draco Malfoy on the first step, grinning smugly, with Crabbe and Goyle backing him up: the usual. The malicious glint in Malfoy's eye made Harry want to punch him, forget magic all together. Only the six of them were in the Hall as everyone else was still eating.

"D'you miss your mum, Potter?" Malfoy asked with mock sympathy dripping from every word. Harry wasn't going to take this tonight. He took a vigorous step down the stairs towards Malfoy, fuming.

"Shut your _damn_ mouth, you overgrown-"

But Malfoy continued; he knew he had hit the nerve. His ornery grin grew even bigger as he folded his arms against his chest.

"Nuh uh uh, Harry ... I don't think your parents would approve of such language... But yet, what does it matter? You already disgrace your family name enough by hanging around that penniless ginger and filthy mudblood..."

Harry heard Ron suck in a sharp intake of breath behind him. Anger and hatred rose in Harry's chest as he tried to breathe steadily.

Now facing each other on the stairs, only a few steps seperated the boys, with their two silent comrades standing silently behind them. Malfoy chuckled coldly. "I knew it." he sighed, as if he'd won an argument. "You're too much of a coward to even-"

Before Ron and Hermione could stop him, Harry bounded down the steps until his face was inches from Malfoy's. With his wand pointed at his enemy's throat and beads of sweat trickling behind his glasses, he stared into those cold grey eyes.

"_Say one more thing_," Harry snarled, "or I'll-" But he was interrupted.

"You'll _what_, Mr. Potter?"

Ron, Hermione and Harry all turned around to see Professor Snape standing at the top of the steps. Cold and shadowed eyes bored into Harry's through his greasy black hair.

"My office." he said curtly, not taking his eyes off Harry. "_Now_."

The Potions master then decended the left side of the stairs with a swish of his robes and walked down the hallway leading to his classroom.

Harry turned back to Malfoy with more enmity than ever before. Malfoy returned the look with a smirk. He knew Snape would be on his side.

Just then, a "You too, Mr. Malfoy." rang out from down the corridor. Malfoy's smirk faltered a little, but Harry didn't feel much better. As Malfoy quietly commerced with his cronies, Harry threw a bleak glance to Hermione and Ron.

Clutching her Charms textbook to her chest, Hermione whispered quickly, "Just tell him what really happened."

"Yeah," Harry thought miserably as he turned away from his friends to follow Malfoy down the hallway, "Like Snape's going to listen to me anyway."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The two teens walked in silence, pressed against opposite sides of the hall, trying to avoid any type of contact with each other whatsoever.

Finally they reached Snape's office in the dungeons. As Harry walked through the door first, Malfoy shoved him hard and nearly knocked him over. Harry looked up: Professor Snape sat at his desk, absorbed in writing something. He didn't notice what just happened, or maybe, pretended not to.

Glaring at Malfoy, the students both walked into the small office. It was quite dark and slightly damp inside. Erie-looking jars of strange ingredients on shelves casted long shadows on the floor. Instead of having pictures of friends and family on the mantelpiece like most teachers, thick dust-covered books were stacked on top.

The only welcoming thing in the room was the fire, which was to the right of Snape's desk. It cackled happily in the hearth and was burning what looked like failed essays.

"Sit." Snape commanded without looking up from his work. They both sat down in the uncomfortable armchairs in front of him. One nemesis in front of him, the other to the left, and both of them, basically, in cahoots. There was no way Harry would be able to get out of this.

Snape finally raised his head and looked at Malfoy as though Harry wasn't in the room. "Begin, if you please." he said, interlocking his fingers on the desk.

Malfoy briskly glimpsed at Harry, then started. "_Well_, sir," He used that high-pitched, suck-up voice he usually spoke to teachers with, "I saw Harry dropped his quill on his way out of dinner, so I rushed out of the Hall to pick it up and give it to him. The next thing I knew, sir, he had his wand out and threatened to kill me."

Harry's jaw nearly dropped, "That lying bastard!" he thought with clenched fists.

"I see." Snape replied when Malfoy finished. The two of them seemed to share an knowing look, and Malfoy smirked yet again when Snape then turned to Harry. Now Harry understood why Snape brought Blondie along: to humiliate him, Harry.

"Did you _deliberately_ point you wand at Mr. Malfoy, Potter?" Snape spoke slowly with evident loathing in his voice.

"_Yes_, sir, but-"

"And did you threaten to take his own life?"

"_Sir_, he was-"

Snape cut him off again. But before he spoke, he looked at Harry for a few long seconds. Softly, he asked, "He _what_, Potter?"

Harry thought before he spoke this time. "He insulted my parents, sir."

Snape"s expression didn't change. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, an ugly smile spread across his lips.

"Well, of course he did, you foolish boy. Your father was a vain, worthless idiot; he deserves to be spoken of in such way. And your mother-"

Snape stopped abruptly. He stared wistfully in between Harry and Malfoy's heads. Harry was even tempted to look behind him to see what Snape was looking so intently at.

Then ... it couldn't be ... was that a tear in Snape's eye...?

Snape must have come out of his trance extremely angry a few moments later, because his eyes hardened and his scowl returned.

"Both of you! Detention!" he barked at them.

Malfoy looked appalled. "But sir! I didn't even-"

"No excuses!" Snape glowered for the first time at his favorite student. "Report to this room at eight o'clock! You will be scrubbing the floors: no magic! NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Harry and Malfoy both scrambled out of their seats and practically fought their way through the door. As soon as they were out of earshot from the dungeons, Malfoy turned to Harry and sneered,

"Look what you got us into, you prat! Bring an extra shirt. We'll need some rags anyway!"


	2. Ch2

Harry couldn't believe it.

Now he had to spend his Saturday night scrubbing dirty floors in the Potions classroom, when he could be relaxing in the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Hermione.

Harry dipped the already filthy sponge into a bucket of soapy water and scrubbed the floor again. Harry almost forgot: this was how Muggles cleaned. The only good thing about this was that Malfoy was here being put to work, too. It was almost comical the way he scrunched his nose in disgust when Snape pushed a rusty bucket and brown sponge into his hands.

Should Harry even try getting revenge on him? That might even make things-

"Harry?" a voice croaked from the back of the room.

Harry straightened up. Malfoy was the only one here... but he never used Harry's first name before.

Harry turned around, still kneeling on the floor. Malfoy had the strangest expression on his face, something like shame and guilt that Harry had never seen before. He had thrown his grimey sponge to the side and his portion of the floor looked barely clean. He opened his mouth to continue, but he hesitated for a moment. Then he looked at Harry through a few stands of white-blonde hair and said something Harry thought would never hear him say: "I'm sorry."

Harry stared at Malfoy like he had grown another head.

"_Is this some type of prank?"_ was one of the thoughts that whizzed through his mind. "_Are there prank shows in the wizarding world? Of course not, idiot, there isn't television..."_

Harry didn't know what to say, but Malfoy looked at him, waiting for his response.

"_Why is he apologizing_?" Thought Harry fervently. "_Is he trying to put me off guard?"_ He managed to mutter an "ok" before turning back to scrubbing the tiles, now twice as hard.

Just then, the Potion's door burst open. It was Zacharias Smith, and his whole body was sprouting bright pink hair that seemed to be growing longer by the second. His eyes searched the room frantically.

"Werz Professr Snape?" he mumbled desperately through a mouthful of hair.

"In his office." Harry replied.

Zacharias, with the pink hair looking about five inches long now, slammed the wooden door shut and could be heard stumbling down the hall. Harry turned around to Malfoy, who was staring incrediously at the closed door.

They met each other's gaze, and almost out of the blue, both bursted into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Malfoy laid on his back, nearly suffocating, his booming guffaw echoing off the walls. Harry had never seen Malfoy laugh so hard, and he had to admit that he had a pretty entertaining laugh.

"_Maybe he isn't so bad, after all?_" Harry thought after they could catch their breaths. Was it possible to misjudge someone who's been your enemy for five years?

Harry's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Snape swiftly bursting through the door. He looked around the room, and albeit not showing it, he was impressed with the the work the boys (but mainly Harry) did.

"You may go." he said sternly, but barely moved his lips. Harry and Malfoy got up off the floor, picked up their cleaning supplies, and walked over to the broom closet in the back of the room. After Harry put his empty bucket away on a shelf, he turned back around to see Malfoy by the door waiting for him. Was that a white smile Malfoy just flashed at him? It wasn't a nasty one either, it was actually...genuine.

Ignoring the bumfuzzled look from Snape, the two now ex-enemies walked out of the classroom side by side. They stopped outside the door in the hallway to face each other.

"Well..." Malfoy said. He looked just as baffled as Harry for the sudden turn of events, yet didn't seem upset about it either.

"See you." Harry finished for him.

They turned there; Harry to the left towards the Entrance Hall and Malfoy (Harry made a mental note to start calling him "Draco") to the right, farther down the dungeons hall. All the way up to the Fat Lady portrait, all Harry thought about was what could've caused the adjustment in Draco's personality.

"_I suppose everyone has a heart, after all_." Harry thought as he greeted the sleeping painting with the password ("_Honeydew_") and walked inside the scarlet Grffindor common room.


	3. Ch3

"I have so much work to do tonight." Hermione told Ron and Harry for the umpteenth time during breakfast. "An essay on the Goblin Riot of 1846, read five chapters in _'The Life of a Muggle'_..."

But Harry wasn't listening. He was too absorbed in last night's detention. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, something wasn't fitting. Draco was the one who started it all, yet now wanted to make amends?

"Oh, _no_!" Hermione gasped, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "We're going to be late!" she took one last bite from her toast and jumped from the table to run out the large doors.

"Yeah, we should go." said Ron, stretching his arms over his head. Harry's stomach tied into a knot. Draco's in potions.

Harry and Ron walked down the stone steps to the drafty potions room Harry and Draco had just cleaned the night before. As class was about to start, they sat down at the same table with Hermione. She was frantically searching her bag for spare quills.

"Class has begun. You should all be predisposed for today's lesson." Snape uttered at the front of the class. "Today we will start the Notrison Draught: the potion to cure nasuea. Turn to chapter 7 in your textbooks and begin immediately."

Every student in the class simultaneously opened their books and flipped pages to the chapter. Then everyone one by one stood up and went to the ingredient cupboards. As Harry, Ron and Hermione waited on the line, they were unfortunately greeted by Pansy Parkinson.

"I heard about about your little... _run in_ with Draco at dinner last night." she informed Harry with her high pitched, extremely irritable voice. "Harry, you should really learn how to toughen up and control yourself."

She put a hand on her hip and flipped her dark black hair out of her face. Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling; Pansy obviously didn't know the whole story.

"Pansy... stop." a voice said behind her. She turned around, perplexed.

Lo and behold stood Draco. His arms were full of small bottles and flasks, but he looked at Pansy with determination all the same. "Just go back to the table, ok? I have all our things." Pansy responded by huffing away and not saying another word to Harry. Draco gave him a small smile before following Pansy across the room to their seats.

When Ron, Hermione, and Harry sat back at their table, Ron was astounded.

"What was _that_ about?" he exclaimed (Harry didn't tell him anything about Draco's change of heart in detention). "Why did Malfoy defend you?"

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. Harry debated whether or not he should explain.

"I don't know." he told him. This was half true; he really didn't know why Draco had told Pansy off. Just because they were on good terms now didn't mean they were best mates.

"I don't like it, Harry," Hermione piped in. "Why would somebody like Malfoy suddenly drop everything and respect you like that?" she retorically asked as she emptied a cup of newt's liver into her boiling cauldron. "It's a little strange, don't you think?"

"_Well_," Ron sighed, his eyes scanning the long list of ingredients, "Whatever's gotten into Malfoy, it probably won't last for long."

Harry stared long and hard into his bubbling brown goop of a potion. "Draco." he said quietly, yet defiantly.

"Call him Draco."


	4. Ch4

After what happened in Potions, Harry felt he could trust Draco, despite how much Ron and Hermione told him otherwise. They would speak and laugh before and between classes, and sometimes during lunch. And by the way people stared and whispered, it was evident people had noticed.

On Friday was a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Harry wasn't too worried, though: he knew Gryffindor would be able to crush Hufflepuff. When Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch players were eating breakfast before the game, he felt a hard clamp on the back.

"Good luck." he heard a familiar voice say, and looked behind him to see a tall boy with bright blokde hair walking away.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Twenty minutes into the game, Gryffindor was in the lead: 50-30.

As Harry circled the field above all the others on his broomstick, something gold caught his eye, but it wasn't the snitch. He looked below him to see a sparkling gold Gryffindor lion painted on a red banner. But the reason why this stood out to Harry, was that it was on the _Slytherin_ side of the crowd.


	5. Ch5

GRYFFINDOR won: 200-30!

Only mere seconds after Harry noticed the banner had he seen the snitch. Harry chased it around the stadium several times before finally catching it firmly in his fist. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and one Slytherin bursted into a frenzy, for this win meant Gryffindor will go to the Finals with Slytherin. "Party in the common room!" swept through the school like wildfire (but only Gryffindors were invited).

Soon enough, Gryffindor tower was filled with caldron cakes, chocolate frogs, butterbeer, and LOTS of noise. Although Harry was used to these crazy "victory parties", that night was rowdier than any other. The usually quiet and comfortable common room was transformed into the ultimate celebration. At around 10 o'clock, someone had managed to smuggle in some fire whisky, and Harry definitely didn't want to get involved with that. He was beginning to get a headache, anyway.

Harry quietly excused himself from his own party and went through the swinging portrait (by the look of the empty glasses in the painting the Fat Lady seemed to be enjoying herself, too). As the portrait hole closed behind him, the noise level immediately dropped and the hall became deafly quiet. Harry had a ringing in his ears from the extreme volume change as he walked through a few corridors and down the stairs. He didn't really know where to go, but he guessed a stroll around the castle might relax him. He walked past the Great Hall, but something inside made him walk back: it was somebody crying.

He peeked inside, and his mouth nearly dropped when he saw Draco sitting alone at the Slytherin table. He was weeping quite loudly, with elbows on the table and his head in his hands. Never in is life had Harry imagined him looking so... _fragile_.

"Draco?" Harry called out to him. His voice echoed against the high walls and starry-sky ceiling.

Draco's head immediately shot up; he didn't notice somebody was there. Harry walked to where he sat as Draco hastily wiped his tears on his sleeves. Harry approached Draco and sat across from him on the wooden bench, but Draco was looking everywhere but in Harry's direction. His eyes were red and tear swollen, and his usually perfect hair looked unkempt. Harry noticed for the first time how much sleep Draco had obviously been losing; the bags under his eyes told a lot.

Harry didn't want to make Draco any more uncomfortable than he already was, so he didn't ask any questions. Instead, he simply said, "Hello." with a smile. Draco finally looked at Harry. He gave a small smile, and managed to mutter a "hey" through a yawn. Harry continued to peer at him over his glasses.

"Well... umm... I should get back to my dormitory." Draco said hurriedly as he stood up.

He picked up the gold Quidditch banner from the wrinkled pile on the floor and walked out. Harry got up quickly and followed him. The Entrance Hall was pitch black, except for a few lit torches on the walls. Draco stopped walking and turned to face him when he saw what Harry was doing. The dim light softly highlighted his features, and a few tears were still visible. He looked down at the floor and fumbled with the banner in his hands, saying, "I'm ok... I'm just going to bed." He still avoided Harry's eyes at all costs.

"I don't believe you," Harry told him somewhat harshly. He was getting annoyed now. "Tell me what's going on."

Now Draco raised his head. He scrutinized Harry's face so intently Harry almost had to look away, but before he could, Draco's eyes locked into his. "Have you ever had to choose to whether act upon demand or heart?" Draco's response took Harry by surprise; he was not expecting such a philosophical question. But now that he thought about it, he _did_.

"Yeah, actually." he said. Was he _really_ going to explain right now? But by the way Draco's eyes widened with anticipation, he knew he had to. "My Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't want me to come to Hogwarts and become a wizard at first," he started, "But I knew coming here was what I wanted more than anything in the world. So I fought for what I wanted." Harry smiled. "And if I didn't, I wouldn't be here, now would I?"

Draco gave him a solemn smile, then asked, "But... what if what you wanted coasted you your life?"

_Silence._

Harry tried telling himself Draco's second question was hypothetical, but he wasn't that gullible, even to himself. He tried to keep his voice steady as he replied,

"If you can't fight for what you love... what's the point of living?"


	6. Ch6

**Not really long enough to be its own chapter, but yknow, YOLO :P **

**I hate myself as much as you do right now, don't worry ;)**

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><p>The Entrance Hall was, yet again, silent.<p>

Draco continued to look at Harry, considering his answer, when the sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairway. Harry started to panic.

"Quick! In here!"

Harry dragged Draco into the nearest classroom (about ten feet away) and pushed him inside. After they stumbled through the door Harry shut it quickly. When they turned around, out of breath, Harry looked down and saw he had taken Draco's hand. Draco looked down too. Chuckling, they both looked up at each other and Harry tried releasing his grasp. The trouble was, Draco wouldn't.

Just as Harry was about to question this, Draco leaned forward and kissed him.


	7. Ch7

The kiss must've lasted five, no, ten seconds.

When Draco released Harry, Harry was utterly dumbstruck. What just happened? Did Draco... just do what he thought he did?

Harry could feel his face burn and heart race, so he looked around the classroom. The room was dark and deserted, with, oddly, a flickering lantern placed on the teacher's desk on the other side of the room. The lantern casted tall shadows of the boys on the opposite wall. The windows were covered with dark curtains, where silver moonlight peeked from the bottom and sides.

The footsteps eventually passed.

The awkwardness in the classroom was so thick one could cut through it. Finally, Harry said quietly, "Was _that _what your question meant?" Draco looked deep in thought, and then smiled. "I s'ppose." he said through a grin. Something mischievous danced in his eyes, and Harry understood straight away.

He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and pulled him closer. The flickering flame in the lantern was just enough to illuminate Draco's face. Draco's lips curled into a sweet and impish smile. His eyes no longer seemed cold and gray; rather, glowing and silver.

**For the first time, Harry saw how beautiful Draco was. **

Harry pushed those strands of blonde hair out of Draco's eyes and kissed him. That kiss...that _kiss_: so passionate, strong, and amorous, and maybe, containing some apologies for all those years of rancor. Their lips parted, and no words were needed: Draco led Harry to a student desk and leaned him against it. He kissed him again; both of them never stopped embracing. So many thoughts exploded in Harry's head. "_Why is he doing this? Why am I liking it?"_

But Harry didn't want these questions answered... All he wanted was Draco.


	8. Ch8

After a few moments, Draco pulled away, and Harry began to miss the feeling. He looked at the ground, embarrassed. Draco looked down at him (he was about two inches taller) and picked up Harry's chin with his left index finger. He was speaking tenderly, but Harry didn't comprehend the words. Something on Draco's arm was distracting him. Harry knocked away his hand and took his forearm instead. "It can't be... It can't be..." Harry tried telling himself.

His heart pounded against his ribcage as he lifted the rest of Draco's sleeve. Draco noticed too late and whisked his arm away, but Harry saw it clear.

It was the Dark Mark. **Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater.**


	9. Ch9

At first, Harry's mind went blank. But when he was able to see straight, he saw Draco had taken a step back. There were tears in his eyes and a look of utter terror on his face.

"Harry..." Draco's voice cracked.

But Harry didn't listen. He got off the desk and punched Draco with as much force as he could muster. Draco fell backwards onto the dusty floor, his eyes pleading with Harry.

"LISTEN TO ME!" he cried desperately as a thin line of blood ran down his chin. Harry stood over Draco, his eyes ablaze and anger pulsating in his veins.

Just then, a severe pain in Harry's scar engulfed him into oblivion. He fell to his knees, clutching his forehead. The immense agony was almost blinding him, until suddenly, it vanished. Harry gasped for breath and found he was drenched in sweat. Looking up, he saw Draco seemed to have been in much pain as Harry was; he was a sobbing heap on the floor. If anything, this just increased Harry's rage.

Feeling so frustrated, so idiotic, so hurt, Harry stepped over Draco and barged out of the classroom. His chest rose and fell with unmeasurable anger and betrayal. He had no idea where he was going; he just needed to escape- his mind, that is.

"This is my fucking fault!" Harry screamed out loud. "I knew I couldn't trust him, I knew he couldn't change! What made me think so?!" But then the last image of Draco, crying on the ground after his scar hurt, flashed in front of Harry's eyes. But the picture was erased, however, when he ran into something going around the corner. Harry looked up at the man wearing a blue and silver striped nightgown with a matching hat and socks.

"Ah, good evening, Harry." Professor Dumbledore greeted him with a smile. "Or, should I say," he said as he checked his brass pocket watch, "_Good morning._" his bright blue eyes twinkled with perceptivity behind his half-moon spectacles. "Good morning, sir." Harry replied quietly. No matter how hard he tried, Dumbledore always saw right through him, and Harry knew it.

"Nothing satisfies an empty stomach much like a steaming bowl of chicken soup, wouldn't you agree?" Dumbledore asked him. Harry didn't know how to reply; of course Dumbledore was just wanting to know why Harry was wandering the castle at such an early hour. But where should the 15-year old begin? Harry mumbled a "yes, sir.", but avoided meeting Dumbledore's gaze.

There was a moment's pause in the empty corridor; even the portraits were still sound asleep. "Go back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry." Dumbledore said gently. His face had a look mixed with kindness and sincerity, rather than annoyance and misconception like most teachers. Maybe that was why Dumbledore was so well-liked among students: he treated them like his own children, instead of just young strangers he ran school for.

This got Harry wondering as he obeyed Dumbledore and climbed the main staircase back to the Gryffindor common room. Does Dumbledore even have his own family? _"He couldn't have,"_ Harry thought, _"he's never mentioned one before."_ Yet again, Harry didn't know much about Dumbledore's personal life in general. Could he have children? Or grandchildren? Or even a wife? The thought of Dumbledore kissing his wife goodnight made him almost grin. It wasn't that Dumbledore couldn't get a woman... but it just didn't seem to... _fit_ him?

Before he knew it, Harry was in his dormitory. The ground was an utter mess: chocolate frog wrappers and spilt butterbeer littered the floor, but Harry barely noticed. He stepped over the mess and climbed into bed, Quidditch gear and all. He layed there listening to the familiar sounds of the whistling wind and Ron's snores.

He replayed what happened in the classroom over and over in his mind: the Dark Mark, his scar hurting, Draco crying. The overburden of disconcert and afflicting emotions eventually dragged Harry into an unsettled sleep, bringing opaque dreams along with it.


	10. Ch10

Harry ran.

Past the Dursley's house on Privet Drive, past the Leaky Cauldron, past Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. For a while, he didn't even know what he was running towards... or from. Then, as he passed the Hogwart's Potions room, he heard it, the slither: "_kill him...kill him..._"

Harry continued to run, with now twice the adrenaline rushing through his veins, until a flash of green light blocked his path...

Harry suddenly woke, his scar throbbing in time with his racing heart. A lantern lit up on the other side of the room. "_Harry_," Seamus groaned sleepily from the bed across from him. "Stop having nightmares! You're killing us with your screaming every night!" Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom murmured something in agreement.

"Sorry." Harry apologized as he turned over on his pillow. He knew he should be blocking out Voldemort, to try not to allow him looking into his thoughts. But this dream was different...instead of himself being murdered, it felt like it was someone else.

Now that he was fully awake, Harry found difficulty falling back asleep. So, he did the only thing he could think of to console him: he wrote to his godfather. After he made sure everyone else in the dormitory was again sleeping, Harry quietly got out of bed and searched for some parchment, a quill, an ink bottle, and a candle from his chest. After lighting the small candle (_Incendio_) and placing it on his desk, Harry quickly got to work. When he finished, his letter wrote:

_Sirius,_  
><em>The last thing I want to do is worry you, but I need to tell you something pretty important. I just woke up from a dream where Voldemort chased me around places I'm familiar with, and then said he wanted to "kill him". But I think the "him" Voldemort was referring to Lucius Malfoy's son. I discovered earlier that the son is a Death Eater, so I don't know why I feel it's him who's in danger. Please respond with your thoughts andor advice on this._  
><em>Sincerely,<em>  
><em>Harry<em>

Harry quickly skimmed through his note, then hastily searched his trunk for his Invisability Cloak, for dawn was fast approaching. He snuck past the Gryffindor portrait under the cloak, the letter clutched firmly in his hand, and went down several corridors and up flights of stairs until he reached the Owlery. Since owls are nocternal, Harry found Hedwig just as she was settling in a high nook for bed. "Please, Hedwig?" Harry pleaded, seeing his pet owl was ignoring him. She finally hooted, irritated, and flew down to him and held out her leg.

Harry looked out the large window as Hedwig flew into the early daybreak, over the lake and towards the mountains. He didn't know what Sirius would reply with, but he hoped what he would say would be helpful. After all, he felt Sirius was the only person Harry could truly confide in.

* * *

><p>The clicking of heels could be heard making their way down the hall.<p>

Draco sighed and absentmindedly stared into the flickering embers in the fireplace. He knew what Aunt Trixie wanted him for. The sound of heels stopped and Draco knew she was standing at the threshold. He turned around in his armchair and met her eyes: Bellatrix Lestrange's untamed curls were in every which way on her head. She wore a battered, long black dress that was obviously not washed in a while. The look on her face had nothing but emmense fear.

"He wants to see you."

Draco walked down what seemed like the never ending hall, with Aunt Trixie following in his wake. Even though she was only a few inches away, Draco could feel her trembling. After what seemed like a lifetime of walking, they reached two large wooden doors that led to the Malfoy's own dining room. Aunt Trixie now stepped in front of Draco and opened the creaking doors. They were greeted by the long dining table filled with people Draco had seem numerous times, including the Carrows, Yaxley, Snape, and even Draco's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sat close together, hand in hand, at the corner of the table. They looked more terrified than Draco had ever seen them; his mother had silent tears running down her cheeks. The room had a high ceiling and tall windows to the right, which hid them from the world with long grey drapes. The room was cold, so cold that Draco began to shiver as soon as he stepped inside. He stood at the end of the dining table, opposite and about 5 yards down from the Dark Lord.

The room was now so silent one could hear a pin drop. Voldemort sat at the end of the table in a large cushioned armchair, his back to another cackling fireplace. His long white fingers stroked the head of his gigantic snake, whose long, dark green body was lazily spread out down the table. Finally Voldemort lifted his head and looked at Draco intently. Just Voldemort's presence, let alone eye contact, made Draco feel extremely vulnerable and cowardly, even in his own home.

"Draco," Voldemort hissed, "You have failed me."

Draco tried to gulp down all the fear he had inside, but it was very hard considering he was now in front of the person he was most afraid of. He said nothing. "It appears as though I was correct," Voldemort continued, "To assume that you are too much of a child to complete such an important task. Wasn't I correct, Draco?" Draco, again, was silent and stared at the floor. "But I took pity on your parents. All they wanted was to bring even a small amount of honor and pride into the family...but you couldn't even accomplish that." he sighed and intertwined his skeleton-like hands across the table.

"I really should kill you." Draco's mother gave out a small whimper. But the tone in Voldemort's voice made Draco look up. _Should_? Everyone at the table seemed to hold their breath as Voldemort opened his mouth to speak. He started again, "I am not one to give out second chances to those unworthy, but, you are very valuable. Only you can befriend the boy and lead him to us." Draco's heart lurched at the thought of "the boy": Harry. He cringed at the memory of Harry in the classroom that night, looking so hurt and betrayed.

"So," Voldemort said, bringing Draco out of his flashback, "I will give you one last chance. Find a way to bring Potter to us, and you and your family will be rewarded."


	11. Ch11

"Harry, wake up! We're gonna leave in fifteen minutes."

Harry peeled his eyes open and saw Ron shaking him awake. He was wearing the maroon wool sweater his mum had made him for Christmas, which clashed horribly with his red hair. Then Harry remembered: today was the first Saturday of the month, which meant a Hogsmeade trip for Third Years and up. But Harry was still so exhausted, he thought about closing his bed curtains, along with the rest of the world, to get more sleep. But he knew Ron and Hermione couldn't be left alone for more than ten minutes without bickering, so he grabbed his glasses from his nightside table and dragged himself out of bed.

* * *

><p>As Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down the snow covered path with the other students to Hogsmeade, the wind nipped at their ears and froze their noses. Harry wrapped his gold and scarlet scarf around his neck even tighter, and he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts... again.<p>

He knew Voldemort was able to hijack his mind and manipulate it to something as his own. But why did the dream seem something of a warning? For Draco? As if they echoed his thoughts, Harry heard Ron mention Draco's name.

"I heard Malfoy had to leave Hogwarts late last night, something about a 'family crisis'." said Ron, sounding unconvinced that a "family crisis" was the actual reason for Malfoy's disappearence. "I bet the little git just had to go cry to his mum about getting detention or something. Are you okay, Harry?" Ron asked as they reached Hogsmeade and entered the Three Broomsticks. He and Hermione looked at him curiously, for Harry hadn't said a word the whole walk there.

"Huh?" Harry mumbled, escaping from his thoughts of Draco. "Oh, just a bit tired, thats a-a-all." he finished with a yawn. After the three found a small table near the brick fireplace in the back of the pub, Harry volunteered to get the butterbeers, mainly because he felt uncomfortable with the suspicious glances Hermione and Ron continued to send his way.

As he stepped up to the counter at the front of the bar, he heard Madam Rosmerta scream from the kitchen, "AHH! You bloody mutt! Get _OUT_!" followed by a lot of schuffling and bangs of pot and pans hitting the floor. Intrigued, Harry crained his neck to look through crack of the slightly ajar kitchen door. Very quickly he saw a glimpse of something large and black zoom past the kitchen door, chased by a running Rosmerta with a broom (but not the Quidditch kind).

"_What the...?_"

The thing had moved too quickly for Harry to get a good glance at it. The whole establishment had become silent and turned their heads as Rosmerta emerged from the swinging door, out of breath. "What can, I get, you?" she asked Harry, exasperated, and ignoring the stares she received from her costomers whilst fixing her tangled hair.

"Umm, three butterbeers please." Harry requested politely. He knew he shouldn't ask, but his curiousity got the better of him. "Madam Rosmerta..." he began tentavily as she filled the three mugs. "What was that thing in the kitchen?" Madam Rosmerta sighed, looked up to check that no one could overhear, and said quietly "Just a pest, you know. A dog. Or maybe a small wolf." Quickly, she added sweetly, "But don't worry, love. Madam Rosmerta will have the kitchen just as clean as it was before." she gave him a small smile and handed him the butterbeers, on the house.


	12. Ch12

**slight male genitalia joke/pun in this chapter. Hurdehur**

* * *

><p>Harry made his way through the crowded tables, the noise now returning to its usual level, and sat down at his table with Hermione and Ron. As he placed the butterbeers in front of his friends, he was about to discuss what he saw in the kitchen when was immediately sucked into the argument.<p>

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as he sat down, "Don't you think Hogwarts should be spending its excess money on new Charms textbooks instead of quaffles?! The pages are pracitally falling off the spine of the ones we have now!"

Before Harry could reply, Ron interrupted, "For the tenth _time_, Hermione, the Gryffindor equipment is over twenty years old, while we already got new Potions textbooks last year!" His face was red with frustration.

Hermione eyed him with utter disbelief. "Don't you think textbooks are just a little more important than _balls_?!"

Just as Ron was about to retort, his lips formed a smirk. "Nope." he said, chuckling. Harry stifled a laugh as he sipped his butterbeer.

Confused, Hermione looked between the boys a few times until realization washed over her face. "Oh, _real_ mature." she huffed as she grabbed her coat and left her untainted butterbeer on the table. Ron watched her leave with evident regret on his face. "C'mon Hermione...it was a _joke_!" As she opened the door to leave the pub, the wind shut it forcefully behind her.

Harry met Ron's eyes. "_Fine_," Ron sighed. "Let's follow her."

Harry and Ron stepped outside to the bitter cold street. Hogwarts students filled the road, most of them carrying bags from Honeydukes and Zonko's. They saw Luna Lovegood among the crowd and waved to her.

"Where do you think she went?" Ron asked, his vaporized breath catching the wind with every word. They barely had to think; of course, Hermione would be at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Reading each other's minds, Harry and Ron followed the flow of people down the street towarde Scrivenshaft's.

"I wanna go to Honeydukes later," Ron told Harry. "I heard they're having a sale on..." He continued to speak, but something on the left side of the rode caught Harry's eye. He turned his head to the brick wall of the Three Broomsticks, and saw a large black dog sitting there, staring at him. He looked into those familiar brown eyes dislodged himself from the crowd.

"Harry!" Ron called out to him. "Where you goin', mate?" But Harry continued going against the crowd and made a beeline towards the sitting dog. As he approached, the dog slipped through the crowd, darting to an alleyway between two buildings. Harry followed.


	13. Ch13

He stepped into the dark alleyway, and a chill went through his spine.

Harry slowly walked down the eerie pathway between two tall buildings, the walls on either side of him blocking out most of the lighting and sounds of shoppers. He knew it went in here...

"Harry." a deep voice said behind him. Harry quickly turned around in the semi- darkness and could barely make out a man in the dirtiest, most ragged robes he had ever seen. His godfather had tangled brown hair down to his shoulders and looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. "Sirius!" Harry exclaimed as he hugged his parent's best man. "Wh-what are you doing here? What if someone sees you? You didn't have to come all the way here! You could've-" but Sirius cut him off.

"Harry, as much as I would like to answer all of your questions, we don't have much time. I received your letter, and everything you told me about the Malfoy boy-"  
>"Sirius?" someone said behind them. They both turned their heads towards the entrance of the alley to see Ron, out of breath and clutching his side. "What are you-" (deep breath) "what are you doing here?" Sirius gave Harry a sideways glance, asking if Ron knew. Harry curtly shook his head. "Ron," Harry called out to him, "We need to tell you something."<p>

* * *

><p>"Wait," Ron said for the tenth time. "So the both of you believe Malfoy is working with <em>You-Know-Who<em> to get to _Harry_?" He clearly didn't believe the story.

"Precisely." Sirius replied. It was evident he was trying to keep his composure with Ron's never ending questions, and his own decreasing patience. "I've been keeping an eye on the Malfoys recently- in canine form-" he added quickly, in result of and Harry and Ron's horrified expressions, "and from what Harry saw, its the only explanation." Harry knew Sirius was right, of course; but it pained him to be reminded that Draco only used him to complete Voldemort's orders. That it was all fake, all a lie, just to have him handed over to his mortal enemy. It made him so sick, in fact, that he turned away from Sirius and Ron and vomited on the pavement.

"Uggh." Ron commented as Harry turned back to them and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His head, as well as his stomach now, felt empty. "Here," Sirius said, reaching into his robes to pull out a large chunk of chocolate. "Eat it." he said as he handed it to Harry. "It'll help." Harry was forcefully reminded of his past Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and father's friend, Remus Lupin.

"Sirius, what were you doing in the Leaky Cauldron kitchen earlier?" Harry asked as he nibbled on the chocolate unenthusiastically. Sirius sighed. "While I was on the run, I overheard the Hogsmeade trip this weekend, and when I arrived here..." Sirius sighed, "my dog instincts get the better of me sometimes. And how can one resist the temptation of a just cooked gosling leg?" he smiled a little. As Sirius was explaining, Harry's vision was gradually blurring and Sirius's words became misconstrued. He felt like vomiting again, but he didn't know how this was possible because he was sure his stomach was empty.

Foggy opaqueness clouded his brain and he gripped to the brick wall behind him for support. "Harry!" he heard Sirius yell, although it felt as though his voice was coming from the end of an extremely long tunnel...


	14. Ch14

The room was quite blurred; the ends of Harry's field of view gave off a peculiar sort of glow.

What he saw in front of him made Harry want to beg himself to look away, but he found he was incapable of controlling what he was seeing. It was as though he was watching a Muggle film that he had no choice in watching.

Flickering flames of candles could be seen all over the semi-dark room, including the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Apart from these candles, the room barred no other light source. On either side of him, Harry could see several, unfortunately familiar, dirty faces illuminated by the eerie glow of the melting candles, sitting in tall, dark wooden chairs on either side of a dining room table. About 10 people seated down his left and right side, each one looking rather uneasy or utterly petrified. Harry recognized a few, such as Bellatrix, Snape, and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

But if Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were here, where was...?  
>As his vision was directed downward, he saw a slender white hand stroke the body of a large jade snake curled up in front of him. No... That couldn't be his own hand...<p>

He finally looked up at the standing person at the other end of the table, and Harry saw the tall blonde boy shaking slightly. Then, the hiss that had haunted Harry's nightmares came alive as though Harry was speaking them himself-

"Draco, do not make any hasty decisions."

Deafening silence pierced Harry's ears, and he even possessed enough consciousness to feel his heart hammering (despite being unable to regain feel of the rest of his body). After only a few seconds of stillness, the tension was endearingly thin, and it threatened to snap _sorry_at any moment.

Finally, after everyone's eyes were glued to Draco, he grasped his hands behind his back and lifted his head. He seemed to stand with a new form of confidence, much like a soldier anticipating battle. He made eye contact with Harry as his were starting to swell with tears.

"You must discern my utmost apologies, _My Lord_," he stated coldly, with an almost mocking tone as he addressed Voldemort, "but I'm afraid I will not accompany you with your demands."

Everyone at the table turned their heads to the person next to them to gawk with raised eyebrows. Draco now focused his attention to his parents, who were seated in the last seats at the end of their own dining table. They were placed there out of the mortification and disappointment their own son had bestowed upon them.

"And as for _you_," he spat, staring into his father's matching gray eyes. His voice became louder and gained more emotion with every word, "I'm _sorry_ I couldn't please you. I'm _sorry_ I couldn't make you proud. I'm _sorry_ I couldn't be the son you've always wanted."

He took a step closer to his forbearer with every sentence. Lucius Malfoy's aging face looked up at his son with expression erased from every crease. Now, Draco leaned towards the man, his hands gripping the table so that his face was only inches away from his father's. Those single strands of hair fell in front of his face as he growled,

"But I am _not_ sorry for loving a boy."


	15. Ch15

Draco then lost his father's eyes and directed his words to everyone else in the room. He breathed heavily as he impetuously pulled up his left sleeve to show his branded arm of a skull and snake.

"Do you all believe I care about _this_?!" his words were followed by silence. He brandished his forearm back and forth in exasperation. "You all honestly believe," he chuckled darkly, "a _forced_, _worthless_, _meaningless_ tattoo will make me enslaved to _him_?!" he pointed his right finger at Voldemort (also at Harry), who had sat wordlessly throughout Draco's whole oration.

Although no one said a word, everyone in the parlor shared the same question: Why wasn't Draco dead yet?

Still at the bottom of the long table, Draco closed his eyes. He then abruptly began pacing back and forth, back and forth, across the room. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he evidently tried to regain his composure. His voice trembled violently, with almost all fortitude withdrawn from his body, as he stopped pacing and said,

"At first, I planned on completing the task you had assigned to me, to lure Potter into your clutches. Out of _fear_." his voice hitched at the last word. The Death Eaters no longer looked at him, either in fear of punishment of their master, or in fear of having tears brought to their own eyes.

"But these last few weeks, after this was all brought onto me," Draco pushed on, "have been the best of my life." he opened his puffy red eyes to throw a bleak glance to his parents to his left.

"I'm sure all of you bastards aren't certain about what I'm saying. So let me say this, loud and crystal," Draco cleared his throat and boomed,

**"I'M IN LOVE WITH HARRY JAMES POTTER."**

Echoes of "Potter" could still be heard seconds after, boring into the stillness. "That's right!" he added in result of several gasps from around the room. "Whilst trying to obey _his_ commands, I have fallen in love with the boy who almost destroyed all of you!" he stopped. He seemed to want this all to sink in thoroughly.

"I am fully aware that I'm not going to see tomorrow. I'm going to die in this house, in this very room, and there will be _no one_ to try to protect me." Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy hung their heads in shame and, again, mortification.

"But, _let me assure you_, it was not all a waste. Because of this task, I was able to meet the only person who didn't care, who didn't judge me, for being associated with _you_ people." He gestured his hand across the table to refer to every man and woman sitting there. "Harry was patient, understanding, charismatic- and the only reason why im saying this in the past tense is because, after tonight, there won't be any of him left in me."

He took a deep breath, and added, "_So_, Tom," he now made direct eye contact with Voldemort, "I suppose I owe you for leading me to 'Potter', even if only for a short while. How can I _ever_ repay you?" With that, Harry's vision was raised as its rightful owner stood up. Before anyone had to think about what was coming, an arm in a silk black sleeve was outstretched clutching a white bone-resembling wand. Then, those two words that ended everything were yelled:

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

A green flash of light shot its way out of the wand, and Draco collapsed, lifeless, on the floor.


	16. Ch16

**Author's Note- I forgot to add in the last chapter: thank you SO much to everyone who has added this story to their favorites/story subscription and reviewed! (Please review if you haven't?) **

**I really hope this chapter (especially the italic paragraph) puts everything in place! If you go back to past chapters with **_**this**_** chapter in mind, I promise you, you won't see it the same way. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me! **

**P.S.- I know its impossible to apparate/disapparate inside of Hogwarts...but can we just pretend it isn't? LOL**

**Lastly- I've actually decided not to include the ending from sesilija49. Don't get me wrong- it's a great one! I just thought of something I believe fits in better with this story. Buuut I'll probably use it in another Drarry someday! Thank you to her, again hehehe**

**Imagining Tom Felton acting this out …HEAVEN**

**Enjoy!**

Draco then lost his father's eyes and directed his words to everyone else in the room. He breathed heavily as he impetuously pulled up his left sleeve to show his branded arm of a skull and snake.

"Do you all believe I care about this?" his words were followed by silence.

He brandished his forearm back and forth in exasperation. "You all honestly believe," he chuckled darkly, "a _forced,_ _worthless, meaningless_ tattoo will make me enslaved to _him_?" he pointed his right finger at Voldemort (also at Harry), who had sat wordlessly throughout Draco's whole oration.

Although no one said a word, everyone in the parlor shared the same question: _Why wasn't Draco dead yet?_

Still at the bottom of the long table, Draco closed his eyes. He then abruptly began pacing, back and forth, back and forth, across the room. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he evidently tried to regain his composure. His voice trembled violently, with almost all fortitude withdrawn from his body, as he stopped pacing and said,

"At first, I planned on completing the task you had assigned to me, to lure Potter into your clutches. _Out of fear_." his voice hitched at the last word. The Death Eaters no longer looked at him, either in fear of punishment of their master, or in fear of having tears brought to their own eyes.

"But these last few months, after this was all brought onto me," Draco pushed on, "have been the best of my life." he opened his puffy red eyes to throw a bleak glance to his parents to his left. "I'm sure all of you bastards aren't certain about what I'm saying. So let me say this, loud and crystal," Draco cleared his throat and boomed,

**"I'M IN LOVE WITH HARRY JAMES POTTER." **

Echoes of _"Potter"_ could still be heard seconds after, boring into the stillness.

"That's right!" he added in result of several shocked faces from around the room. "Whilst trying to obey _his_ commands, I have fallen in love with the boy who almost _destroyed_ all of you!" he stopped. He seemed to want this all to sink in thoroughly.

"I am fully aware that I'm not going to see tomorrow. I'm going to die in this house, in this very room, and there will be _no one_ to try to protect me." Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy hung their heads in shame and, again, mortification.

"But,_ let me assure you_, it was not all a waste. Because of this task, I was able to get to know the only person who didn't care, who didn't judge me, for being one of _you_." He gestured his hand across the table to refer to every man and woman sitting there.

He continued, "Harry was patient, understanding, charismatic- and the only reason why I'm saying this in the past tense is because, after tonight, there won't be any of him left in me."

He took a deep breath, "_So_, Tom," he now made direct eye contact with Voldemort,

"I suppose I owe you for leading me to 'Potter', even if it was only for such a short while, and I must thank you for that." Sarcasm dripped from every word, just how it did back at the Entrance Hall all those weeks ago, when Draco had been following "the plan":

.-.-.-.-

_to aggravate Harry, to get him alone, and Apparate them both to the Manor. But Ron and Hermione had also accompanied Harry into the Hall, so Draco couldn't abduct him with other people to witness (except for Crabbe and Goyle, who knew of the plan). Snape, being informed with the task, had saw what was happening from afar, and tried to help Draco by giving both the boys detention so that they would definitely be alone. Draco, of course, had no idea of Snape's intentions, so was just as shocked as Harry when Snape had assigned them both detentions. But as he and Harry were cleaning the Potions classroom that night, Draco saw that Snape was "helping" him, and realized he didn't want to do this anymore. What had Harry done, really? All these years, he (Draco) had been raised to despise him, but for only his parents' benefit. Harry was a good person, and Draco had known it all along, even when he had been brainwashed to hate him. He had even been denying admitting to himself that he found Harry physically attractive as well. So, that night in the Potions room, Draco decided to secretly give up the assignment. He needed to get the burden of guilt he had been carrying for years off his chest, and apologized for everything he had ever done to Harry with those two words: "I'm sorry". And as for getting close with Harry after that detention…almost all of the Slytherins were aware of the task, so they believed Draco was just playing his part. No one knew of Draco's change of heart… until now._

.-.-.-

_-Back at the Manor…-_

"How can I _ever_ repay you?" Draco asked.

With that, Harry's vision was raised as its rightful owner stood up. Before anyone had to think about what was coming, an arm in a silk black sleeve was outstretched with a white bone-resembling wand. Then, those two words that ended everything were yelled: "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A green flash of light blasted its way out of the wand, and Draco collapsed, lifeless, on the floor.


	17. Ch17

***Very, very overdue, I know! If you read my updated bio, you'll see why :P**

**But I'm going to try to update whenever I can, so please don't unsubscribe! This story is almost finished, though; maybe about three more chapters at most, I haven't really planned it out yet. **

**As you can probably tell from the last chapter, this is not your typical Drarry fluff. But I hope you like it anyway**

**Lastly, please review! Although I probably won't be able to reply like I used to, please know that I read them**

-.-.-.-

"Help me sit him up."

The familiar voice seemed to be coming from Harry's right. He wanted to see what was happening, but his eyes refused to open.

Harry was then aware of four hands pulling his body to a sitting position, and felt his back lean against something cold and hard.

"Harry, can you hear us?"

He was only able to groan in response, for his scar was still throbbing savagely.

"On the count of three." someone else said on his left. "One... two... three!"

And, right on the count of three, Harry felt burning coldness slam into his face and neck. This seemed to jolt him back to consciousness immediately.

"Wjebdjdhjs _RON_!" Harry exclaimed; the shock had set him back to his natural and original mindset.

Ron smiled a little, bits of snow still dangling from his scarlet mitten. "Sorry, mate." he apologized. "We just-" he stopped in midsentence as he noticed the state his best friend was in.

**The** **Boy Who Lived**... crouched over his knees on the snowy and wet concrete, grasping for every bit of breath, sobbing uncontrollably and inconsolably... **seemed on the verge of death.**

With every unsteady gulp Harry drew in, the tears fell harder and harder with every breath he sputtered out. His hands were matted in his hair, as though pulling out every knot on his head would pull out the agonizing torture inside it.

_It couldn't be true... no... He wouldn't let it be true! _

After a moment of this, Harry sat back in a sitting position leaning against the chipping brick wall, and shook off the hands and words of Sirius and Ron. He didn't bother wiping off the snow that Ron threw: his hot tears had melted most of them away.

Looking back and forth between Ron and Sirius, he saw each of them as a colored blur due to the tears in his eyes and the water droplets on his glasses. Both of them were now crouched on their knees and on same level as he was. He tried to stop trembling in order to explain, but to no avail. After many failed attempts of speaking, but not knowing what to say, Harry shut his eyes.

"The Manor." he gasped.


	18. Ch18

**A/N- Wow… chapter 18! When I started writing this last July, I never thought it would go this far (yes, I've been on-and-off writing this for about 9 months…)**

**I've been thinking of submitting this to the DrarryAwards this year. I don't really expect to win any categories, but it'll be nice to, hopefully, be critiqued on this to make it better**

**I found it kind of hard to write this chapter, because I've never had someone I loved brutally murdered like this, let alone see it happen. But I tried without overplaying the emotions.**

**Review if you like, or don't like; I will read them and feel very happy ^_^**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Harry's face slammed into the floor.

"Damn apparating." he grumbled into the rug. He raised his head and blindly felt the ground a few feet around him to find where his glasses had flown off. As he turned over to his left side and placed his glasses back on his face, he recognized small pains in his navel and lower back. Ron was laid sprawled on the ground next to him, limbs in painfully looking positions; Harry guessed Sirius wasn't as good of a Apparator as he had thought.

The three seemed to have landed in a sitting room with an olive-colored sofa against the wall with long windows behind it (the glass probably charmed so that others couldn't see in, but they could see out) and a precisely sculptured glass table in front of the couch that levitated a few feet off the ground. On the opposite wall was an ash-filled fireplace with a large armchair, the same color as the sofa, facing the hearth. Harry and Ron had apparated in-between the large chair and table.

All around them was deadly silent, except for the constant beat of Harry's ever-racing heart in his eardrums. As he sat up and rubbed his aching back, he saw Sirius, at least, was able to land on his feet. His back was to Harry as he faced the side wall. His mind still in a somewhat dreary fog, Harry stood up and shakingly crossed the faded rug to join Sirius at the corner of the small, elegant parlor.

Standing next to his godfather, not a word was spoken. Instead, they both looked up at a large painting that was hung high on the dark colored wall. From what Harry could guess by the resemblance of the people in the painting, this was a Malfoy family portrait.

Starting from the left sat Narcissa Malfoy on an the elegant green couch in a formal grey dress. Her white-blonde hair was wrapped in a tight bun, and she wore a lace black dress that ran to the floor. Behind her and the couch was her husband, Lucius. The resemblance between he and Draco was painstakingly uncanny. Bellatrix Lestrange sat on her sister's left, hands clasped formally in her lap. She wore a similar dress as her sister, but had long and wild brunette curls resting on her shoulders. Harry guessed that was Bellatrix's husband standing behind her, just as Lucius was to his wife. Rodopholus had shoulder length straight brown hair, but looked sophisticated enough in a formal suit and tie. All four drawings of the actual people scowled down at Harry and Sirius, each one evidently disgusted with the filth standing on their very own floors.

After a few silent moments of observing the portrait had passed, Sirius turned to face his godson. "It does make sense," he said quietly, "about the Death Eaters meeting here."

His dark brown eyes made contact with Harry's greens. "If something... unexpected did happen here,"

Harry saw Draco fall to the ground a second time,

"It would explain why the non-apparate enchantment was lifted: so the others could apparate here, as well." Inhaling deeply, he rested his right hand on Harry's shoulder.

By now the tears had begun to form behind the teen's glasses, but before he allowed one to roll down his cheek, he slowly broke away from Sirius and walked to the entrance of the parlor, which was a marble archway. Harry didn't want Sirius's comfort, or anyone's, for that matter.

He walked under the arch, which led him to a magnificent foyer with an incredibly high ceiling. There, white marble staircases on the left and right sides led to a second floor with a visible hallway in-between them. A high ceiling made loud echoes out of every footstep Harry took. The banisters, stairs, and even the floor itself shone from the twilight seeping in through the skylight.

_"What am I doing here_?" he thought as he stood in front of the large furnished doorway and took in everything he saw.

Could there be the possibility of Voldemort had made it up, that Draco wasn't actually... gone?

_"There's only one_ _way to find out."_

Harry turned to the left where he had came from and walked into the parlor. Upon entering, Sirius sat rigidly on the sofa looking pensive (probably reminiscing his miserable childhood memories here), and Ron was stumbling around the room observing the hundreds of glass knick-knacks on shelves. Neither of them said anything; what was there to say, anyway?

Harry was about to get their attention when something in the corner caught his eye.

It was a door with a shining brass doorknob, painted the same dark green and blended in perfectly with the wall. In fact, if it wasn't for that heavily polished doorknob, Harry doubted he would have noticed the door at all. Without thinking, Harry walked towards the door with his hand outstretched. The doorknob was cold underneath his fingers.

He turned his head to look behind him, still clutching the knob: Sirius still sat looking deep in thought, and Ron was busy snooping. They wouldn't notice if he was gone for only a moment.

Harry turned the doorknob and pushed the door open: darkness greeted him. Harry took his wand out of his coat pocket and whispered, "Lumos". The tip glowed white, and the light illuminated a long, and most likely secret, hallway in front of him.

Throwing one last glance behind him, Harry stepped into the passageway.


	19. Ch19

**A/N: So this is it: the last chapter!**

**This was possibly the hardest to write, and I kept putting it off because of it. I wanted the ending to be, dare I say it, EPIC. **

**This is probably a good place to add that J.K. Rowling owns EVERYTHING in this story besides the plot. **

**I promise you I am not a plagiarist :)**

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><p>Harry's footsteps echoed as he walked down the dark and narrow stone corridor.<p>

He had left the door he entered from slightly ajar, so a small amount of light seeped in and casted his own shadow in front of him. After a few steps, he didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing, but something in the back of his head pushed him forward as his scar pulled him.

Harry's wand shook slightly in front of him as he held it, continuing walk until he approached tall, wooden double doors. The knockers on each door were in the shaped of serpents. The bottoms of the snakes were coiled; their heads faced each other, sharp teeth barred menacingly.

Harry stood in front of the doors and looked up at the serpents. His scar pulsed in time with his heart as he instinctively reached his hands towards the serpent on the right and pushed.

The door slightly budged, and a frigid breeze hit Harry square in the face. Now even more enticed, Harry shoved his wand into his pocket, darkness now stinging his eyes, and pushed against the door with all his strength until it slowly creaked open.

Now with the door open completely, another gust of wind blew out and into the tunnel. Harry now stood in the doorway of a dismal and deserted dining room. The room was eerily still, except for a constant breeze that came from the shattered windows on the right stone wall. The wind coming in shook the unstable flames that flickered languorly from the chiming chandelier above. The several candles that were still lit irradiated the grey furnishings of the meeting chamber.

Just as Harry took a step forward, something on the ground stopped him. This caught Harry's attention as he was distracted from observing his surroundings, and looked down at the floor a few feet in front of him.

_IT CAN'T- IT COULDN'T- _

Harry fell weakly to his knees. That couldn't be _him_ sprawled out in front of him.

Without any thought, without any sense, Harry reached out and picked up the lifeless body and cradled him in his arms. The white-blonde head of the Slytherin rolled around his neck until it rested heavily on Harry's right shoulder. His silver irises eyes were still open, but dull and unseeing. His mouth was slightly ajar, as though the shock of death had caught him by surprise.

Harry looked down at Draco, _his_ Draco, and felt the tears well up.

All at once, Harry collapsed: his head thrown down onto Draco's chest, gasping and sobbing as he relinquished any ounce of constancy that had found a way to remain inside him.

He subconsciously knew this happened all along, that it wasn't just a hoax inserted in his brain to give him false ideas, but he half-heartily denied it. So why was he falling apart... again?

The actual sight, not a blurred mental encounter, of Draco dead smacked Harry right in his chest. The echoes of his crying echoed off the walls and high ceiling of the dining room as he clutched Draco; every ashen object seemed to absorb Harry's pain.

After a few moments of Harry weeping into Draco's robes, he sat up and wiped his tears on his sleeve. He tried to recollect the slowly fading memory of Draco's murder. So if Draco was a _true_ Death Eater, he wouldn't have sacrificed his own life to defend him. So Draco wasn't following Voldemort's plan- or, he was, but then rebelled against it.

**It wasn't a lie after all; Draco had truly loved him. **

Harry now had a full understanding. After all these years, the thought of Draco as a coward were ultimately gone; he was a hero.  
>Harry looked down at the Slytherin Prince, whose eyes still stared emptily into space, and closed them with his fingers before placing a gentle kiss on the his white-blonde forehead.<p>

_Fin_

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>

**xo**


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